


my hearts a stereo that only plays for you

by Txny_Stxrk



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Hannor, Happy, Happy Ending, M/M, Oneshot, hankcon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 21:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15591558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Txny_Stxrk/pseuds/Txny_Stxrk
Summary: Sometimes people would ask Connor what his favourite music was and his answers would vary depending on the person - sometimes he’d say it was Markus’s compositions, or sometimes he’d tell them that he liked Knights of the Black Death just to watch their confused expressions, or sometimes he simply would shrug and confess he didn’t have a favourite song or genre and he would just listen to what was on. But all of them were white lies even though all three were correct in a sense.His favourite music was this. His favourite music was Hank’s heart beat.





	my hearts a stereo that only plays for you

**Author's Note:**

> another fic i wrote because i listened to a song on repeat for too long
> 
> hardcore recommend listening to stereo hearts whilst reading, or at least have heard it  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3E9Wjbq44E

[March 24th, 2039]

Connor felt himself begin to stir from his statis, numbers running passed his still closed eyelids as they twitched at the influx of information that passed through his head - a normal morning routine. He eventually moved to open his eyes, feeling a bit slow as he fully loaded back up.

He believed this feeling would be called ‘grogginess’ if he was human. Well, properly human anyway.

[7:34AM]

The sun was hitting his face from the small window in the bedroom, causing him to hum ever so softly in contentment as the rays warmed his left cheek of his synthetic skin. His right cheek was still warmed by the slowly moving bare chest beneath him. Humans were so warmth sometimes.

He was glad he’d gotten Hank to stop closing his curtains, the sun was a nice thing to wake up from statis to.

[Partially cloudy. 51°F. Possibility of afternoon showers 42%]

 

He couldn’t help but smile to himself, closing his eyes softly. What a perfect day to spend in bed.

 

It was strange, just a couple of months ago the prospect of lying around and doing nothing when there was things to do seemed impractical - he never would’ve been able to handle getting a day off. He couldn’t understand why humans did it.

 

He couldn’t understand why Hank did it.

 

For example, when he tracked him down at the bar. The lieutenant hadn’t wanted to come with him to the murder scene - had been unwilling to do his job and let Connor complete his mission that he had been so desperately focused on. He hadn’t realised why he’d been so afraid at the concept of failure then, assuming it was just how he was programmed, but he knew now. He hadn’t wanted to be shut down, he hadn’t wanted to disappoint Amanda. He’d ignored the part of him that had been screaming about death and what it might feel like since his first mission on the roof where he’d fallen along with that deviant. That android.

 

Along with Daniel.

 

So to see Hank so ready to just pass his work off to someone else or have it wait another hour, to continue drinking himself into an early grave, it had been weird. Impractical. He definitely would’ve never considered their relationship even going any further than colleagues back then - and maybe even that was a stretch.

 

He snorted to himself a little, the noise making Sumo briefly stir at their feet before returning to sleep. If only past Connor could see him now.

 

He knew the longer stayed here awake, the higher the probability of accidentally waking up the Lieutenant on his day off and be faced with tired grumbling and a sour expression but he really couldn’t help it. If he got up he’d no longer feel the peace he always did when he was lying in Hank’s arms. He’d no longer have his strong arm wrapped around his waist in an almost protective manner - a position he seemed to insist upon despite the fact he complained of his dead arm each morning. He’d no longer have a hand splayed out on Hank’s hairy chest - playing with the little grey curls as they rested gently against his palm though being wary not to accidentally tug at them and wake Hank up.

 

He’d no longer have his audio processor in the perfect position on the left side of Hank’s torso. Just above his heart.

 

Its beat was soothing. Regular. So perfectly imperfect. So human. Messy, fragile, yet a work of art. A masterpiece. Sometimes people would ask him what his favourite music was and his answers would vary depending on the person - sometimes he’d say it was Markus’s compositions that he’d play for him on his piano when the two of them would hang out, or sometimes he’d smile and tell them that he liked Knights of the Black Death just to watch their confused expressions and to hear Hank’s bark of laughter, or sometimes he simply would shrug and confess he didn’t have a favourite song or genre and he would just listen to what was on. But all of them were white lies even though all three were correct in a sense. 

 

His favourite music was this. His favourite music was Hank’s heart beat. It felt like his little secret, his secret song that would play only for him. He wished his own thirium pump would make such a pretty beat, but he was also glad it didn’t. Hank’s heart was what made him special - what made him human.

 

Logically, he knew that all humans had similar heartbeats yet… Hank’s still felt so unique to him. He didn’t think Gavin’s heart would make such beautiful music, nor Kamski’s or Fowler’s. Only Hank’s.

 

Connor smiled and looked up at his partner, his mouth agape as he snored gruffly and a small sliver of saliva leaking from it and onto the pillow, creating a damp patch. His chest would move with each breath, occasionally stopping for a short while before he snorted and made a little screwed up expression that vanished as quickly as it came as the snoring returned to not be interrupted until the stop happened once more. Irregular. Human. Hank’s beard was growing in need of a trim and his hair was a mess, spread out across the pillow and sticking up in odd positions. Connor knew when he finally awakened and walked into the kitchen for breakfast it would - as the human saying went - resemble that of a bird’s nest. Sometimes he would even put it up, before he went to bed or after he woke up, in a messy bun.

 

His expression softened and he couldn’t help but shift his hand that rested on Hank’s chest to instead rest against his cheek gently, moving a lock of grey hair that had ended up in the Lieutenant’s mouth. He was… 

 

Gorgeous.

 

Beautiful. Handsome. Adorable. A masterpiece. Amazing. Pretty.

 

All of that and more. There wasn’t enough words to convey how Hank looked to him. He always spoke so lowly of himself and his looks but Connor didn’t understand. How could someone so perfect think so lowly of himself?

 

He was perfect because of his imperfections. Hank was so incredibly perfectly imperfect. Connor could only wish to have so many little examples of worn and growth on his own body. Hank was always embarrassed when Connor insisted on kissing every dimple, every stretch mark, every scar, and every wrinkle across his aged body. He’d tell him he wished he had a body like Connor.

 

Connor would look him in the eye and honestly reply that he wished he had a body like Hank’s.

 

His face would flush and they would kiss. 

 

Hank had done so much for him. He was the reason he was here, he was the reason he was alive. He had never felt so alive as he had with Hank, the idea of spending his time with anyone else was out of the question - at least not like the way he spent time with Hank.

 

Never like how he spent time with Hank.

 

Connor smiled at the memory, only pulled out of it when his partner muttered something unintelligible from under where his hand rested. He froze, afraid he’d woken him, only to relax when the snoring returned and lie back to his original position. Hank’s arm tightened a little around his waist and he laughed a little bit to himself. Guess he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

 

Not that he’d planned to, today breakfast could wait. They’d wake up when Hank did. Or, y’know, whenever Sumo decided he was hungry and started to whine at him.

 

He closed his eyes and let himself to be happily distracted by his favourite song once more, sighing contently yet again. Happy.

 


End file.
